


victory is that look in your eyes (and the taste of your lips)

by kunimi



Series: tsukkikage week 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, TSUKI_KAGE_WEEK_2020, rating only for (one single instance of) swearing, takes place across their second and third years!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24060904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi
Summary: Kageyama makes an incredulous noise, a sort oftch!in the back of his throat, but doesn’t retort. After a few moments, he says, “Youarebetter at communication than me.”Kei’s known him long enough to know what this means. “So is Natsu,” he responds exasperatedly. “That doesn’t mean she’d be a better vice captain than you.” He tilts his head to the side consideringly. “Although…”Kageyama shoves him again, but he’s smiling now, which Kei was counting on. Kageyama’s always had a soft spot for Natsu—Kei thinks it’s because she’s like Hinata but with less qualities that make you want to kick something.“Thanks,” Kageyama says after a few moments. His voice is gruff, but he meets Kei’s eyes again, and they’re so muchsofterthat Kei forgets how to breathe for a moment.or:5 times Tsukishima and Kageyama repressed thoughts about each other's eyes, and 1 time they didn't.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: tsukkikage week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735840
Comments: 44
Kudos: 344
Collections: The King and the Commoner





	victory is that look in your eyes (and the taste of your lips)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the first day of tsukikage week, with the prompt _beautiful eyes._ this is SUPER late because this last week has kicked my ass, so i ended up just staying up all night to finish this fjfdskjh. it is now 8am. choices have been made.
> 
> unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

**1.**

“Why is it such a surprise that I’ve never been kissed?” Kageyama asks, exasperated. 

Kei blinks. _Because you’re beautiful_ , he thinks grumpily, eyes tracking the way Kageyama’s muscles shift beneath his shirt, committing to memory the shades of midnight—black & blue & moonlight pale—that make him up.

“I assumed you and Hinata would have raced each other to do it,” he says instead, before tacking on, with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, “or just kissed each other to get it out of the way.”

“Like he could reach,” Kageyama snorts, ignoring Hinata’s outraged squawk from beside Yamaguchi. He shifts, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I guess it never occurred to us as something important to race about,” he ventures eventually. 

“Not true!” Hinata declares. “I thought it would be important to get some practice in but I didn’t want to bring it up, not when girls are always talking about Bakageyama. Like, blech, he’s already winning! What’s so good about him anyway!”

Kageyama blinks, looking completely caught off-guard by the turn the conversation has taken. 

Kei can relate.

He shifts, and glances sidelong at Kageyama. He’s frowning at Hinata, as he’s wont to do, but Kei can’t even derive any amusement out of that fact, because he’s stuck on Kageyama’s eyes. His brow is furrowed sharply, his lip is twisted in disgruntlement, but as expressive as the rest of his face is, Kei just _can’t_ pull his gaze from Kageyama’s eyes.

They’re so… _blue_.

It’s not like that’s news to Kei, of course—he doesn’t spend a lot of time _looking_ at the King or anything that ridiculous, but they’ve been teammates for over a year, so he knows what colour his eyes are.

There’s just something about the way they look right now, with the light catching them and fringed by his eyelashes, that makes Kei swallow his breath. Despite the sharp planes of Kageyama’s face, and the frown etched into his expression, his eyes are blue and endless, and Kei thinks maybe he could drown in them.

He looks away quickly, busying himself with his bento. He’s just hungry, he tells himself, hungry and foolish from lack of omega-3 fatty acids. That’s the only explanation, he reassures himself, and he ignores Yamaguchi’s bemused glance as he—for once—finishes his lunch.

* * *

**2.**

Nobody riles Tobio as much as Oikawa, but he thinks if Oikawa wasn’t such a personal grievance, Futakuchi Kenji could give him a run for his money.

He’s just so _annoying_. Which is saying something, when Tobio’s best friend is Hinata and he regularly spends time with Tsukishima.

“Calm down, King,” he hears from his side, a gentle murmur that robs the words of any sting. Tobio looks at Tsukishima, and sees an almost amused quirk to his lip. God, it’s just like Tsukishima to be impressed by the opposing blockers being competent at both blocking and being assholes.

“I am calm,” Tobio shoots back, sounding anything but.

Tsukishima huffs a laugh, and it makes Tobio’s cheeks feel warm. He hopes he isn’t coming down with a fever. It’s very inconvenient timing.

“Convincing,” Tsukishima says, a hint of laughter in his voice. Last year, it would have made Tobio tempted to kick him. Now, all he does is glower vaguely menacingly in Tsukishima’s direction, fully aware that it’s significantly less successful against his own teammates than people he actually feels animosity towards.

Tsukishima snorts. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice low. “We’ll get past them this time—and then we’ll stuff them.”

Tobio doesn’t know how to describe the look on Tsukishima’s face. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s alight with something like determination and cunning, and it makes his chest feel warm.

He’s getting Yachi to take his temperature after the match.

It’s still Koganegawa’s serve—something which Tobio takes as a personal affront, because he sucks at serving and yet is getting his _second_ serve, which means Karasuno needs to up their game if they can’t even turn Koganegawa’s serves into a viable attack to get past Dateko’s blocks—and he’s moving into position. Tobio takes his place to Tsukishima’s left, breathing in to recenter himself in the match.

Then he glances out of the corner of his eye at Tsukishima. He’s not sure why—logically, he should be focusing on Koganegawa, or assessing his other teammates’ condition, given that he was just speaking to Tsukishima—but his eyes are drawn to the blond’s face. His gaze stops on Tsukishima’s eyes and rests there, focusing on them.

Determination, Tobio decides, is the colour amber.

Tsukishima’s eyes are quick and clever, constantly assessing and analysing information, and almost impossible to trick or deter from their focus. They’re also, Tobio is startled to find himself think, quite pretty.

He shakes it off. _Definitely_ fever symptoms.

(When Tsukishima dinks the ball over Futakuchi’s head, Tobio can’t help but smirk to himself.

When he and Tsukishima jump together— _now_ , the tug at the back of his shirt says, a reversal of the way he used to pull Tsukishima around the court last year—and roof Dateko’s #3’s spike, Tsukishima’s smile is so satisfied that Tobio can feel it mirroring on his own face.)

* * *

**3.**

“But—you’re Yamaguchi’s best friend!” Kageyama sputters, and Kei raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, nepotism from a King? What a surprise,” he snarks, and if it’s more gentle than it would have been in first year, nobody has to mention that.

Kageyama huffs, shoving at his arm lightly. “You two work the best together,” Kageyama mutters.

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Yamaguchi can work with anyone,” he points out. “He can work with you—hell, he _has_ worked with you. You two are the only reason Hinata can actually aim his serve.”

Kageyama looks briefly pleased at the reminder, before his expression falls back into the thoughtful frown from before, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

Kei sighs in exasperation. “King,” he says, waiting for Kageyama to look at him.

“Hmm?” Kageyama says, looking him in the eyes, and wow, Kei didn’t think this through. Unbidden, an image of a reflection nebula pops into his head, something he’d looked into out of curiosity during his physics assignment last term. _Enough_ , he thinks, banishing the image. He’s sure the conversation will be exasperating enough without his brain making absurd comparisons between celestial entities and Kageyama’s eyes.

“You know me,” he says, and tries not to think about how painfully sincere those words are. “You know I wouldn’t have said you if I didn’t actually think you were the right person.”

Kageyama blinks. “You think I can do this?” he asks quietly.

“I mean, you’re better than Hinata,” Kei says wryly, and Kageyama snorts, but something in his expression looks disappointed. God. Kei can’t believe he’s doing this.

“Yes,” he says, doing his best—for once—to shed the condescension from his voice. “You’ll be a good vice captain. You’ll teach the rookies how to serve and you’ll yell at the idiots who don’t aim their spikes correctly and nearly decapitate Yachi and you’ll probably get scary-intense and silent once a month, but you’ll snap out of it.”

“Because you and Hinata will yell at me,” Kageyama murmurs, almost to himself, and Kei snorts.

“Hinata will yell at you,” he corrects. “I’ll snipe at you with well-reasoned arguments and impeccably delivered snark until you get so fed up that you throw a volleyball at me or Hinata, and then you’ll calm down.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Someone’s got a high opinion of his communication skills,” he grumbles.

“Okay, compared to you, my communication skills are basically the same level as Sugawara-san’s,” Kei argues.

Kageyama makes an incredulous noise, a sort of _tch!_ in the back of his throat, but doesn’t retort. After a few moments, he says, “You _are_ better at communication than me.”

Kei’s known him long enough to know what this means. “So is Natsu,” he responds exasperatedly. “That doesn’t mean she’d be a better vice captain than you.” He tilts his head to the side consideringly. “Although…”

Kageyama shoves him again, but he’s smiling now, which Kei was counting on. Kageyama’s always had a soft spot for Natsu—Kei thinks it’s because she’s like Hinata but with less qualities that make you want to kick something.

“Thanks,” Kageyama says after a few moments. His voice is gruff, but he meets Kei’s eyes again, and they’re so much _softer_ that Kei forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“Sure,” Kei says, and tries to pretend that his voice isn’t strained, glancing down at his phone as he blinks away the memory of Kageyama’s eyes.

* * *

**4.**

“You’re so—” Tobio strangles the air in front of him, unable to come up with words to sufficiently describe Tsukishima’s sheer annoyingness.

“Cat got your tongue?” Tsukishima taunts, and Tobio is going to hit him. Really, he thinks, this time he will. Nobody can stop him. Hinata’s fast enough, but not remotely strong enough, and Yamaguchi’s probably strong enough, but he’s distracted by whatever Yachi’s showing him on her phone.

Then Tsukishima laughs, and the sound makes Tobio’s ears heat up and some of his irritation bleed out.

“I thought you’d be better at it, King,” Tsukishima says, sounding unduly entertained. “Aren’t you the master of spatial awareness?”

Tobio scowls. “These balls have no real weight to them,” he complains, glowering at the offending objects.

“It’s a _fairground game_ ,” Tsukishima points out. “They’re meant for children—were you expecting a Mikasa ball? You know the rest of the world aren’t all volleyball idiots like you and Hinata, right?”

Tobio can feel his brow knitting into a deep ‘V’ shape—he can’t help it. Tsukishima can be _so_ annoying.

“I didn’t expect a volleyball, dumbass,” he snaps, before grumbling, “I expected a basketball.”

Tsukishima laughs again, and the sound rings through the air, catching on the edges of Tobio’s heart. He very determinedly does not look at the blond’s eyes, and instead fixes his gaze on the basketball hoop which defeated him.

“It _is_ a basketball,” Tsukishima points out with a smirk. “Just a soft, light one.”

Tobio makes a _tch_ noise at him, then says, “I don’t know why you’re so smug. You’re tall enough that you could just place it in the hoop anyway.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Is there something the King isn’t physically able to do?” he teases, and Tobio bristles.

“I didn’t say that!” he argues. It catches Hinata’s attention, who darts over to them.

“Stop _arguing_ , I want to go on the super-fast roller coaster!” he cries, tugging on Tobio’s arm. “It goes _upside down_ and _backwards!_ Like _ZOOM_ then _WHOOSH_ and finally _BLAM!”_ He illustrates his sound effects with sweeping arm movements, almost knocking Tsukishima’s glasses off his face.

Tsukishima lets out an annoyed sound, catching Hinata’s arm before it can veer near his face again. “Sorry, I’m pretty sure that ride has a height restriction,” he says dryly, ignoring Hinata’s outraged squawk and removing his glasses to inspect them for any smudges.

“I’m tall enough to _ride!”_ Hinata shouts indignantly. “Yacchan checked!”

At that, Tsukishima _does_ start laughing, glasses in hand and eyes crinkling at the corners. Tobio can’t help but stare. It’s not often he sees Tsukishima so genuinely amused, nor has access to his eyes without any barrier, let alone both. His eyes look so _warm_ right now, like molten gold, and Tobio thinks it might be pooling in his stomach, because suddenly all he feels is warm all over.

He pushes away that thought, and prods Hinata in the bicep, ignoring his cry of dismay. “Let’s grab Yamaguchi,” he says, suddenly desperate to not be thinking about Tsukishima laughing anymore. “I’m pretty sure Yachi won’t want to ride it, but he will.”

Hinata’s cry of excitement rings through the air, and Tobio focuses on the upcoming roller coaster, and how to pretend to himself that it’s the only thing today that makes his stomach swoop.

* * *

**5.**

Kei has never thought of himself as a sympathetic person, but something about the sheer frustration written into every inch of Kageyama’s face makes his gut twist uncomfortably.

“Do you want to take a break?” he asks at last.

The look in Kageyama’s eyes is mutinous, a stubborn refusal if Kei’s ever seen one, but the rest of the setter’s expression is pinched, and his lip is trembling slightly.

With a sigh, Kei tugs the workbook away from Kageyama and puts it to the side. He grabs his laptop from his desk and opens it, pulling up youtube. He types in the channel he’s looking for, some snarky comedy group Kunimi mentioned to him during their last practice game against Aoba Johsai, and puts on a random video on medium volume. It’s not really important _what_ they watch, Kei thinks; they just need something to distract Kageyama for a bit so he can reset.

It’s clear Kageyama isn’t focusing on it, but his breathing is starting to get less laboured, and Kei thinks that’s probably a good sign.

“You know you’re not actually an idiot, right?” Kei says after a moment.

Kageyama swivels his head to face him. “I know I’m good at volleyball,” he says, furrowing his brow, like he’s confused why Kei feels the need to clarify this.

Kei kind of wants to smack him. “ _No_ ,” he says exasperatedly. “I mean in general—not just volleyball, but just in general. You know you’re actually kind of smart, right?”

Kageyama blinks at him. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks, concerned. Now Kei feels slightly offended. Is it really _that_ unbelievable that he’s complimenting him?

 _Yes_ , his brain whispers. _Shut up_ , he responds.

“I’m fine,” Kei says, brushing it off. “I’m serious, though. You wouldn’t be able to analyse the court so quickly if you weren’t, or remember all the hand signs everyone uses, or put together the pieces about whatever volleyball-related trauma people bring onto the court. I know you just brush them off because they’re all related to volleyball, but none of them have _anything_ to do with how physically skilful of a player you are. They’re all markers of intelligence that are applicable to _anything_ —you’ve just only really gotten comfortable with how to use them for volleyball.”

Kageyama scowls. “I _can’t_ use it for anything else,” he mutters. “Literature makes no sense, and I suck at math.”

“Yeah, okay, literature is always going to be tricky, but that’s just because you have the communication skills of an eleven year old.” He pauses, then adds, “Or Ushiwaka.”

Kageyama looks vaguely scandalised, but there’s a twitch of amusement at his lips, exactly as Kei had hoped. 

“And you don’t suck at math,” he continues. “You just can’t wrap your head around trigonometry. That’s not the same thing. We just have to work out how to make it make sense for you, you know?”

It takes a few moments, but Kageyama meets his eyes, and Kei is… _really_ not prepared for what he sees there. Kageyama looks so touched that he’s almost tearful, and Kei has absolutely no idea what to do with that.

“I don’t want to be a hassle,” Kageyama says, and Kei’s glad, because _this_ , he knows how to deal with.

He rolls his eyes. “Spare me the self-sacrificing King act,” he says airily, flicking his hand in a way he knows will piss Kageyama off. True to form, he immediately glowers at Kei, muttering something under his breath. “You’ve been a pain in the ass for almost three years,” Kei continues, “both on the court and when it comes to schoolwork, so don’t start getting shy on me now.”

With a grumble, Kageyama seizes his workbook back from where Kei had placed it to the side, flipping it open to the page he had just been stuck on. He turns it ninety degrees, sticks his tongue out, and starts scribbling. Kei has no idea if he’s actually doing the problem set, but he thinks, knowing Kageyama, he’s analysing the problem and considering his strategies. He’ll check for himself in a moment.

Right now, though, Kei’s fixed on the way Kageyama is focusing on his work. It’s the same way he looks in the middle of a fast-paced game, when everyone else is erratic and desperate, but Kageyama is analysing the court with every inhale and settling on a strategy on the exhale. It’s a single-minded dedication that Kei has never seen in anyone except Hinata, who tends to adopt that expression towards the end of a game, when he’s trying to commit the sheer impressiveness of his opponents to memory, even while he tries to beat them. There’s something about the way it looks on Kageyama, though, that makes Kei’s cheeks heat up.

He refuses to think about that, though, so he leans forward, head almost touching Kageyama’s, and reads over his work instead. It always feels a little steadier, somehow, when he can’t see the directness of Kageyama’s gaze. It’s a little like moving out of direct sunlight.

(He has no interest in examining why that is. Shut up, Yamaguchi.)

* * *

**+1.**

It’s not their final game.

That’s the only thing going through Tobio’s mind right now. It’s not their final game. He won’t let it be. His _team_ won’t let it be.

It’s the semi finals, and they’re playing Shiratorizawa. Now that Aone and Futakuchi are gone, he’s fairly confident that Aoba Johsai will beat Dateko on the other court. Which means, provided Karasuno doesn’t lose, he’ll be playing Kunimi and Kindaichi again. They’re something like friends again, or at the very least friendly, but that makes no difference. Karasuno will win tomorrow. They have to. Tobio won’t let anything be their final game, not until the very end of the road.

(Something in the back of his head whispers _not even then_. It’s a thought that hurts to dwell on, because he cares so much more about this team than he ever thought he would, so he pushes it aside. He’s become surprisingly good at that, over the years.)

It’s not their final game.

He repeats it like a mantra as he feels Tsukishima tug at the back of his shirt and they jump to close out Goshiki’s line shot, for once managing to block it without knocking it out. He repeats it as he watches their first year libero miss a wicked cross-court spike that Shibata sent over before Hinata could get more than a finger on the ball. He repeats it as Yamaguchi’s fifth serve gets received by Akakura, and Goshiki spikes it right past Yamaguchi’s ear in a display that is equal parts skill and spite. (Tobio is impressed despite himself.)

He repeats it like a mantra when he sets to Tsukishima, thinking _keep flying higher_ , and watches him spike it down from above Shiratorizawa’s block. He tries not to think about how limitless that thought was, how he didn’t mean it just for the game, but maybe forever.

He repeats it like a mantra when they reach match point, and at the end of a long rally, he sets the ball to Hinata and watches his best friend blaze like the sun and score them the victory.

“It’s not our final game,” he finally says out loud, a touch of relief in his voice, and Hinata laughs brightly, jumping onto his back.

“Next stop: Nationals!” Hinata cheers.

“Next stop, beating your boyfriend to _get_ to Nationals,” Tsukishima corrects.

“Kindaichi is _not_ my boyfriend!” Hinata protests, red-cheeked, which is something Tobio definitely hadn’t clocked and is going to revisit later. Hinata mutters something about going to comfort Goshiki—which probably does mean comfort, but also no small amount of ribbing, knowing the two of them—but Tobio doesn’t pay him any attention. He’s too busy looking at Tsukishima.

To their left, he’s pretty sure Yachi has leapt at Yamaguchi, who is now spinning her in an exuberant hug. To their right, he can see their first year back up setter gleefully leapfrogging over their libero.

In front of him, though, is Tsukishima, eyes blazing with something like pride, and Tobio thinks he could get drunk on this feeling.

“We won,” he says, and he doesn’t know why he sounds dumbfounded. It’s not like he ever doubted it. He worried, maybe, but he never _doubted_ them, because he knew he’d do anything for his team. He knew his team would do anything for him, and that he could rely on them. That he could rely on Hinata to jump, even three sets in, and never give up; that he could rely on Ukai and Takeda to lift them up, on Yachi to keep them steady; that he could rely on Yamaguchi to split the opponents’ defence and lead them to victory; that he could rely on Tsukishima to stay tenacious and determined, to make the right calls, and to fly no matter how much he complained.

“We won,” Tsukishima agrees, and he sounds amused, but also fond, so fond that Tobio thinks his heart could crack from the weight of this feeling.

“Your eyes,” he blurts out, then flushes.

Tsukishima looks stunned for a moment, then recovers, throwing Tobio a smirk. He looks too happy to pull it off, though, so it’s more like a lopsided smile, and it’s so fucking endearing that Tobio can’t help it. He surges forward, hands tugging on Tsukishima’s collar, and then Tsukishima’s hands are on his waist and he’s leaning down to meet him halfway.

Tsukishima tastes like strawberries and victory, and Tobio thinks he was right: he could get drunk on this feeling.

They break apart to the sound of Yamaguchi whooping, Hinata and Goshiki crowing—through what sounds like tears in the latter’s case, which Tobio can understand—and a startled gasp which can only be courtesy of their libero, who Tobio privately thinks is most aptly described as a mix between Yachi and Azumane-san, at least until he gets on the court.

For once in his life, Tsukishima looks speechless, so Tobio takes the chance to say something he’s been thinking for at least two years now.

“Your eyes are pretty,” he says, slightly breathless, before tacking on, “especially when you’re blocking. Then they’re kind of beautiful.”

Tsukishima’s cheeks redden, and he groans, lifting his hand to partially cover his face. “Oh my _god_ , that’s the kind of terribly corny line I expect Kuroo to say to Kenma, except when you say it, it actually sounds kind of sweet. Even though you mentioned _volleyball_. What am I going to do with you?”

Tobio tugs Tsukishima’s hand away from his face, and Tsukishima allows it, peering down at him, even though he still looks slightly embarrassed.

“Win with me,” Tobio says simply.

“Tomorrow?” Tsukishima asks wryly.

“Forever,” Tobio replies, and when Tsukishima smiles back, it kind of feels like they’re already champions.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it! i plan to complete the whole week, though i'm a bit behind schedule so i might be late. stan tsukkikage!
> 
> come talk to me on my new [hq twt!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/)


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